#fire emblem heros x reader

[josnhoes]

I've been playing a lot of Fire Emblem Engage and had a brain worm set in the Fire Emblem Heros verse. So have a small drabble

Pragamtic!Reader, isekai, angst, talks of war, reader is bitter and angry, open ended

Being the summoner was hard, not the summoning part but the war planning part. You were no tactician, even when you had played the game it had been a case of over leveling and auto battling. Another thing was the game, or rather being in it. Fire Emblem Heros had been a fun pass time where you got to look at attractive anime people and coo over the kid units. They were never real and failure in battle had no consequences. Here though they did; and you could tell no one the truth of your origins.

It was isolating but you tried your best to push past it, to do your best for them all and the characters you'd loved so dearly. But despite the many daydreams of meeting them, and showing them your kindness they didn't see you the way they did in the game. You suppose it was your fault, maybe suggesting biological warfare wasn't a good idea. You hadn't even mentioned anything deadly just spreading a flu through the enemy ranks to get an upper hand.

That had not been the right call, nor had been the idea of various traps or the use of carefully placed explosives to funnel the enemy while on the battlefield. To you the ideas felt pragmatic, it was war and lives were on the line on all sides. But the group was the order of Heros not the order of fight dirty to win. Though you didn't see it as winning so much as surviving.

You weren't completely alone in the ideas you had. The 'darker' units had agreed with you, war wasn't won by playing fair; time and time again the enemy had shown the ideals as well. But Alfonse and his sister never caved. At this point all you were was a way to bring bodies to the battle. You didn't get a say on the battlefield, instead you just summoned heros and watched from the sidelines alone.

It had been anyway, until one day when out of desperation you were brought in because of Hel's undying army. You had been reluctant and snippy thanks to how you'd been viewed in the war room before but this time they listened. Despite their discomfort at the less then savory tactics they tried your plan. It worked too. The fight went from kill the enemy to disable the enemy. From fight fairly and with honor to survive. This shift in attitude kept everyone alive.

When Hel was defeated you were praised as a hero. Suddenly everyone had always agreed with your ideas. It should have made you happy. Finally they were accepting you like your daydreams, but instead all you felt was bitter. You realized you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't be their hero summoner, you'd gone from loving the characters to hating them.

You left that night leaving the summoner's coat and Breidablik on the table of the room you had called your own. You didn't bother with a note, you doubted they would notice you gone until they needed new people to fill their ranks. You had expected the journey to be one of solitude and you didn't know where you were going either. But as you slipped out of the castle you were stopped. A few of the darker heros whom you'd managed to become friendly with, who had supported you stopped you and told you they were coming with.

Solitude was hard and you knew without someone to fight for you you'd be dead, so you welcomed them and your journey deviating from the plot of the game began.

Unbeknownst to you and your group your absence was noticed rather quickly. Alfonse and Anna had come to your room to talk to you, apologize for their behavior and most importantly try to make things right. Finding your things there and no sign of you sent them into a rush to find you. By the time they realized you were gone the consequences of their behavior hit them. Yes they had lost the key to their victory, but they had been so callous they'd driven away someone they had summoned and used. They had thought you wrong with your underhanded plans but it was war and you had been *right*. They just hoped they could find you alive and make things right.

#fire emblem x reader #fire emblem heros #feh #feh x reader #fire emblem heros x reader

[position-list-sometimes]

#tmnt 2012 #fire emblem heroes #aspec #Stranger Things #black girls of tumblr #unicorn #stranger things x reader #the maze runner #message me #Toonami #sunmi #kurt hummel #$uicideboy$ #nicholas hoult

[close-yet]

#fire emblem heroes #joey king #yandere x reader #Stranger Things #Anastasiya Scheglova #quantum physics #unicorn #black girl luxury #stranger things x reader #the maze runner #message me #youtube

[avoid-fight-likely-draw]

#pagan witch #lumax #fire emblem heroes #kenny mccormick #bingqiu #Anastasiya Scheglova #chanyeol #black girl luxury #jjk x reader #the maze runner #message me

[randoimago]

May I request my usual crowd (Bernadetta, Kazuha, Kuki, and Jirou) with a S/O that loves making them laugh?

Having an S/O That Loves Making Them Laugh

Fandom: Genshin Impact // My Hero Academia // Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Character(s): Bernadetta, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kuki Shinobu, Jiro Kyoka

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): You got it!

Bernadetta

She's socially anxious and hates leaving her room. So hearing you standing outside and knocking on her dorm room only to give a cheesy knock knock joke always brings a smile to her face.

You're allowed to come into her room, you're one of few that's allowed. But sometimes you just stay on the other side of her door and talk to her, telling jokes and just making her smile and laugh. She really appreciates it.

While it's not the same as your jokes and presence, she still makes sure to get you a bouquet. To sew you an armored bear stuffy of your own. She wants to give you something as her thanks for always being kind to her.

Kazuha

Had paused the first time you two were cloud watching and you mentioned one cloud looking like something obscene. He wasn't expecting it in this peaceful moment, and it caused a surprised chuckle to leave him. That was fuel for your fire.

He tries to enjoy nature and to relax in the calm, but then you come up with some witty comment about something or point out an innuendo he hadn't noticed in his writing. It's just so out of left field that it manages to bring a laugh from his lips.

His humor isn't childish, but the fact that you just make comments out of nowhere is really what gets to him. He does appreciate the moments of laughter you bring to his life and he tries his best to make sure you always smile too.

Kuki

It's trickier to get Kuki to laugh. You notice amusement on her face and in her eyes, but actual laughter doesn't come often. She's even a bit surprised when you manage to make her actually laugh.

It's probably an out-of-place comment or some dry remark she wasn't expecting that makes her chuckle a bit. It's not a full, belly laugh but it still manages to bring a smile to her masked face.

Kuki picks up that you're trying to get her to laugh on purpose with whatever cheesy joke or comment you think of that might make her laugh. And she appreciates it quite a bit. Will pull her mask down to place a kiss too your cheek as thanks. You aren't always able to see it, but you do constantly bring a smile to her face.

Jirou

The kind that will snort if you get her laughing enough and she gets embarrassed and throws pillows at you exclaiming that she wasn't snorting and that you better not tell anyone.

Makes it a point to not laugh as much. She knows what you're doing with your dumb jokes and silly comments, and she doesn't want to feed into it, so she tries to hide a smile, which just causes more laughter when you point it out and she tries to hide.

You can bet that she's going to try and get you back for it. She knows you like making her laugh, but guess what, she likes seeing you smile and laugh too. So, she'll (reluctantly) find Denki to learn some really dumb jokes in hopes that she can get you laughing for her.

#l00ptyd00pty #genshin impact x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #fire emblem x reader #fe3h x reader #fe bernadetta x reader #bernadetta x reader #kyoka jiro x reader #jiro x reader #kuki x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader

[thatanimewriter]

RETROUVAILLES.

➳ synopsis: v. to meet again, especially after a long time apart

➳ character/s: hayama akira, tsukasa eishi, riku dola, morinozuka takashi, lie ren, winter schnee, qrow branwen, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, jirou kyoka, shinsou hitoshi, togata mirio, dedue molinaro, felix fraldarius, shamir nevrand, vi, ekko, dan heng, blade, gepard landau, fushiguro megumi, zen'in maki, nanami kento + any of your faves

➳ warnings: fantasy!au (character is a knight, you are the royal they serve), medieval shit, major character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of injury, childhood friends to almost lovers, accidental murder lol, intentional murder, reader described as beautiful, hurt/no comfort, angst, gn!reader (as always)

➳ word count: 2k

➳ notes: the thing got graded finally, so you can now have it. sorry for any hurt feelings (not really, that was the whole point of the story-). character list is just some characters i DO write for that i think work for this story. also this won't be tagged properly, but it's fine

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

to them, the weight of their golden armour is equal to that of guilt and grief. the castle they swore to protect is a permanent reminder of their shortcomings, though they never expected to return so soon. their metal-clad figure decorates the deteriorating structure in flecks of fragmented sunshine along the sandstone hallways. the kaleidoscope of light is no longer disrupted by the servants’ shadows. instead, the faux sun lurks on the walls as they drag their feet along the floor. the scraping of metal along stone replaces the low murmurs of maids and the light footsteps of staff as they flitted around the castle. the echo is deafening, and they realise they despises silence. it isn’t true silence with the clanking of their armour, but it makes them painfully aware that they are a survivor. the rattling of metal causes them to be uncomfortably conscious of their isolated existence. glancing through ajar doors that line the walls, they longs for a semblance of home, yet they are met by blood-stained tile and mangled corpses littering the floor in unappealing heaps of sunken cheeks and open wounds. 

anita yasmine rosie luka penny william-

they step around them, gaze flickering to each of the faces paralysed by a still heart and wishes to lay with them, to feel the sticky black blood seep through their clothes and be held by the icy arms of death. they steel themselves against the pungent scent of rotting flesh, waving off the flies lingering around their head but failing to break through the helmet that conceals their shame and anguish.

the squeal of rusty hinges makes them close his eyes as they shakily exhale. their eyes flutter open at the quiet groan of the floorboards, and their breath hitches in their throat. it is as if colour returns to their vision, and they are several years younger, free of the faint crow’s feet stemming from the corners of their eyes and the dull ache in their chest.

it’s… the same. but you're not here.

silk sheets lay neatly atop the mattress, and the pillows remain meticulously arranged. they think if they sleep under the covers, they might smell your floral perfume on the pillowcases. they don’t entertain that idea. the sunlight filters through the translucent curtains, highlighting the blanket of dust that settles on the furniture and floor. the room hasn’t changed much since childhood; though it was sporadic, they were permitted inside. nonetheless, it was timeless. throughout all the phases of your life, it still felt like you.

they eye the vanity, clear of clutter but filled with nostalgia. the hairbrush is likely unusable – at least not without lacing dust and bugs through one’s hair – but it looked the same as when they originally gifted it. strands of hair weave between the bristles, and they wonder if their own locks are hidden away in the forest of DNA. 

the maids would have cleaned the hairbrush since I was a child.

they don’t touch anything; they knows what is tucked away in the drawers and boxes. there is one thing they allows themselves to taint with their touch. they pry a brick from the wall, reaching into the pocket of secrecy they’d made with you. a matted velvet box graces their armoured fingertips. they don’t feel the texture, but the box size is familiar. they carefully pluck it from the treasure trove of memories and broken promises, sliding the brick back into place. gently unclasping the box, they smile softly at the two rings that lay side by side. 

“one day, i’ll marry you!” they proclaim as you sit on the floor of your balcony. you giggle at their proposal and inquire about the rings you would wear if you married. “rings?” “you have to give me a ring to tell everyone that we’re getting married.” their little shoulders slump, and a pout forms on their lips. they sheepishly scuff their foot along the ground and tries to ignore the tears in their eyes. “...i don’t have one.” you sigh but give them a hopeful look. “but eventually you will?” they quickly brighten and grin through their tears as they lift their head to look at you. “yes! it’s gonna be like no other ring in the whole kingdom!”

they pocket the box and glance at the balcony. they kneel and bow their head, resting their right hand on their heart. when they rise, they look at the room before gently closing the door behind them as if you has retired for the night, and they don’t want to wake you. a practised method that hasn’t entirely left their bones.

as they descend the stairs to the ballroom, they nearly smile at the memory of the ball before the tragedy that befell the castle. they don't let it break through the perfectly crafted mask of neutrality. not when the ballroom floor is occupied by more lifeless bodies and darkened blood smears. they look to their side, wishing they could relive the memory of the ball and hoping they can look into your eyes as they escort you down the stairs, hoping you can share one last dance. 

but you're not here…

they raise their arms, supporting the memory of everything they long to return to, and waltz. there is no music, yet their timing is precise, and despite having no dance partner, their form persists. they ponder the events of the tragedy as they glide along the bloody floor and skirt around the dozens of corpses, each bearing a face they'd seen a million times and maybe even a little more. 

they can almost feel the weight of the spear they carried that day as they dance. they could hear your deafening scream as you were pulled into the crossfire. the sound follows them into their unconscious, a horrifying alarm. they never forgot the ache in their heart as their spear pierced through you. a human shield is a cowardly move in their mind, but the culprit had succeeded if the goal was to leave them with insurmountable guilt.

they come to a halt, bowing to the ghost of you. recalling your morning together beneath the gazebo, they gravitate to the imaginary scent of tea and pastries. the winter sun doesn’t fully reach them through the armour, and they attempt to resist the welcoming rays of warmth that beckon them to stay longer. they sit on the concrete bench they had called dibs on when they were twelve, ignoring the dull pain in their chest. slowly, they remove their armour. the metal feels warm despite the thin layer of ice along the lake the gazebo resided by. 

the metal plates rest neatly on the bench, and they shiver at the fresh, cool air that tickles their skin. they sigh and roll their shoulders free of lingering tension, allowing themselves a moment of tranquility. their eyes – drops of sunshine that had fallen from the heavens according to you – scanned the garden that built their childhood and adolescence. the twitch of their fingers goes unnoticed as they reminisce about their training to become a knight. the tightness in their throat is unacknowledged when they see the statue of you standing tall, proud and beautiful atop a marble pedestal. they wonder if the sculptor had taken a cast of you rather than building beauty with a reference. they clench their fist, imagining your fingers laced between theirs. they've memorised the sensation, embedding it into their brain each time your hands embraced over the years. flicking the box open, they let the rings fall into the palm of their hand.

“like no other in the kingdom”. heh… what an understatement.

they chuckle at their craftsmanship. it is what is expected when an eight-year-old finds wire to make a ring. they observe the jagged circle – if you could even call it that – and the haphazardly hidden wire ends that made them feel like an ant had bitten them. it was irritating beneath their little armoured hand, often coated in a thin layer of sweat, but now they crave the sharp sting that fades to a dull ache. perhaps the discomfort has travelled from their calloused and scarred skin to their weary bones and heavy heart.

they mindlessly hum a tune from their childhood as they unwind the wires, straightening them as best they can. their nimble fingers falter as their vision blurs, but they intertwine the wire into a band of love as the soft melody cracks and fades away. in their tunic, they shed responsibility and don youth while they recraft the rings as if they could rewrite history. the art of creating jewellery didn’t embed itself in their flesh and bones like combat did, despite their parents teaching them before they left the village.

a cold wind kisses their skin, and they wet their lips, gazing at their workshopped rings with a smile you claimed could warm even the most hostile souls. they rise with a newfound energy, standing before the ethereal marble effigy. their breath crystallises as they stare into the stony eyes of the statue, slipping a halo onto their ring finger. they don’t dare to tear their gaze away and finds their vision joining the misty gardens again. a short apology escapes them as they climb onto the plinth, slide the accompanying token onto your marble finger, and lay a chaste kiss on your icy forehead. they dismount the pedestal at the sound of shouting and is struck with a familiar paralysing experience. they can hear their pulse in their eardrums over the voices, and their limbs itch with the desire to escape.

no. i stay.

the faces that emerge from the tall grass aren’t familiar, but the old, blood-stained uniform brings ease. they don’t hear what the intruders declare over their heartbeat, but they focus on the sword shared between the looters. a sudden movement breaks their concentration, followed by a new ache in their abdomen, and they are acutely aware of the sword skewering their organs and poking through their tunic. the sturdy marble pedestal makes an ugly screech against the metal before meeting their back. they hiss when it’s pulled from its temporary sheath, dripping with red and shreds of tissue. the blood that coats the blade slides down the statue’s base, gathering in their hair and absorbing into their shirt. as they slump against the surface, they let their eyes flutter shut, and they faintly hear the footsteps of the intruders grow distant.

they frown as they lay on the lawn, ripping dry skin from their lips with their teeth. “can i ask you a question?” “you just did,” you respond with an ounce of playfulness.  “what if i fail?” you turn to face them with narrow eyes as if you dared them to elaborate. “what if i can’t protect you?” you stare for a moment as you debate your answer. they gaze into your eyes and look for a hint of uncertainty but is met with their insecurities as they reflect their image.  you flash a gentle smile and pick a blade of grass from their messy mop of hair. “i’ll see you soon, won’t i?”

a final smile tugs at their lips, and they exhale, weakly lifting their hand to look at the ring that failed to shine in the sliver of sunset light. the warmth disappears beneath the horizon, permitting the stars to adorn the navy skies, and their hand falls to the ground.

see you soon. i missed you. in our next life, maybe…

#shokugeki no soma x reader #food wars x reader #no game no life zero x reader #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc x reader #rwby x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #fe3h x reader #arcane x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[we-stan-fiction]

Hero stood on the edge of cliff, looking out onto the city's once bright lights now there was only rubble and faint orange light where fires were still smothering. A breeze of cool air passes, causing goosebumps on Hero's skin.

Hero exhaled a breath as they steeled themselves for what they were about to do. There was nothing left for them to fight for. There was nothing left. There was no point.

Hero looked at the bottom. It was a long way away. Surely no one could survive such a fall. They turned around facing away from the edge of the cliff. They close their eyes, arms stretched out as they lean towards the open darkness-

"Without me?" Villain tilted their head. Villain's hand had grabbed the front of Hero's shirt. "I'm offended."

#the umbrella academy #five x reader #five #umbrella academy diego #dark academia aesthetic #five hargreeves #whump prompt #gotg vol 3 #skye ward #caretaker #prompt #whump prompts #writing prompt #villain #heroes of olympus #my hero academia #fire emblem heroes #my hero acedamia #xdinary heroes #hero.txt #boku no hero academia #the boy and the heron #marvel heroes #dc heroes #dialogue prompt #fic prompt #art prompt #story prompt #prompt list